


Sectumsempra

by second_hand_heaven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy-centric, Gen, Hogwarts Sixth Year, POV Draco Malfoy, Sectumsempra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: What hurts more; the action, or the words behind it? Sixth year bathroom scene.Russian translation availableherethanks to the amazingsverhanutaya





	

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-post from fanfiction.net where i published this piece a few years ago. Short and angsty, can be interpreted as unrequited drarry if so desired (but you don't need me to tell you that).

_Sectumsempra (The Words That Cut)_

 

Whoever said that words don't hurt had obviously never felt like this.

The physical wounds hurt, of course they do.

But it's nothing in comparison to knowing that _he_ wanted me like this.

Broken, bleeding and dying.

Slowly and alone on the cold stone floor.

That he- the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, a third of the Golden Trio- wanted me like this.

He was supposed to be good.

He was meant to protect people, help people.

I thought maybe he could help me.

Offer me a third choice; an option other than kill or be killed.

But no, he hates me with utter passion.

Strong and wild.

Deep and unrestrained.

He would never help me.

Because of what I am.

Who I am.

With a brand forced upon me by fear.

I can hardly blame him.

Which isn't from lack of trying I can assure.

I can't blame him, but I sure as hell can be upset.

Saddened by the fact that the boy –man, or whatever we are- standing above me is meant to see the best of people, offer redemption, but all he does is curse me and leave me to bleed out on the bathroom floor.

That he wants me to die.

_Sectumsempra._

Cuts forever.

The Golden Boy of the Wizarding World wants me to die, agonizingly slow and alone.

I can't blame him one bit.

And that thought cuts deeper than any wound.


End file.
